


Nerd Club

by Swagreus (shiplizard)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Alternate Universe - Nerds LARPing, Dick roommates, Dorm Life - Freeform, Eating Disorders, Friendship, Multi, Rivalry, Trans Hanzo Shimada, offscreen transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-15 08:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13609035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiplizard/pseuds/Swagreus
Summary: This is the story of how a perfectly innocent econ student got sucked into his best friend's weird scifi  LARP, almost got his soul taken by his econ teacher, and gained a rival that he does not want to kiss even a little.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bluandorange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluandorange/gifts).



> I suggested this to Blu on Tumblr, and then I got attached, and then I wrote it.

He's organizing his notes for about the third time and trying to find the common thread, the hook that's going to make this paper an actual analysis and not a collection of fun facts, when something thuds against the door.

He hears two voices giggling outside, a soft moan, and prays it's someone from down the hall, that they just accidentally stopped at his door-- but the universe forsakes him. The door-handle clunks and then there's the jingle of keys, interupted with a wet sound another moan.

"Fuck's sake, I'll get it," he yells, and storms across the room to open the deadbolt.

They don't hear him over the noise of their own bumping and writhing against the wood, and he really should say something--

He doesn't.

Carl and Johann spill through the door, limbs tangled together, and he steps aside and lets them both fall on the floor.

"Sorry, I told you I was getting it," Han says sweetly. "Guess you didn't hear me?"

"Fuck, Han," Carl spits. "You're such an asshole."

"It's not his fault," Johann soothes. He seems to have a well of Benefit of the Doubt that doesn't run dry, despite Han's best efforts. He stands and hoists Han's roommate to his feet. "Come on, babe, I've got you."

"I'd have cleared out if you told me you were having Johann over," Han says, not-very-subtly pissed off that Carl never seems to remember to warn him, barely seems to acknowledge that he has a roommate at all.

Carl doesn't notice that he's being passive aggressive, too busy trying to pull his massive boyfriend over to the bed, but Johann does, and gives him a chagrined look over Carl's head.

"We should have, I'm sorry. You don't have to leave, we can... hmm-" the blond looks apologetic. "Actually, there's a house party at my place, we can't go back there."

There's the sound of a zipper opening, and Johann bites his lip. Carl's one track mind isn't about to deviate on account of something as insignificant as another body in the room, obviously.

"It's fine, I'll hit the library or something," Han sighs.

"Thank god," Carl mutters.

He gathers his notes quickly, deliberately not looking over at the two of them, and slams the door spitefully behind him.

Maybe he needs a change of scene for this damn paper anyway.

Jin used to warn him when she had dates. And bribe him with pringles to leave.

It's hard to admit how much he misses being Jin's roommate sometimes. It's so tied up in so much bullshit-- the university registering him for an all-female dorm in the first place, the months of jumping through paperwork hoops before some bright spark at the res office realized oh gosh, oh golly, I guess he is legally male after all and we've been dancing on the edge of a lawsuit all this time.

And it'd been a goddamn victory, but -- then it meant leaving Jin. The one person in this university he sort of got along with. Most of his floormates had been good about the thing, but Jin had been special. She'd just accepted that she had a male roommate and made adjustments and set boundaries as if they'd known each other all their lives. Even with people who meant well there were false starts-- and Han isn't good at forgiving false starts, so they turn into awkward resentment pretty fast.

Not with Jin, though. Jin had been... good. He could have talked about this with her. They could have watched old movies together and binged on pizza. She's gotten busy with some club or another these days, though. He hardly even sees her. He should probably try to make other friends, maybe.

He's not good at that. Friends.

 

Wrapped up in thought he hurries down the stairs and bangs open the stairwell door just as a group of girls reaches it. He actually knocks the smallest one backward, and grabs for her, horrified, catching her wrist before she overbalances and falls .

She looks up through a spill of neon-green bangs and he's so surprised that he almost drops her anyway. It's Jin.

"Excuse us," says one of her friends sharply. Tall, blond, white -- he doesn't know this one. The other girl with them is Jin's girlfriend Zoe, who's already one one knee gathering Han's dropped notes and Jin's dropped bag.

"Ohmygod Han!" Jin squeaks, and lunges into his arms for a hug. "Angie, this is Han! I told you about him."

"Nice to meet you," says Angie, tone absolutely implying the opposite.

"What have you done to your hair?" he demands, arms up awkwardly as she squeezes him.

She pulls back and gives him a shy smile. "...well. Zoe and I are..."

"You don't owe him an explanation." Angie puts in.

"He's our friend, Ange. He's just making conversation," Zoe soothes. "Hey, Han, these look important." She offers his notes.

"Thanks. I'm just heading out to Rotherford. Johann's over."

Jin nods knowingly. He may have complained to her about Carl's failings as a roommate once or twice. Or more.

"I could sneak you some pringles," she offers, winking. "Just in case you wind up accidentally pulling an allnighter, again."

"Don't bring me into your life of library crime," Han scolds. "I like not being banned from the libraries."

"I'm only on probation!"

"Mm-hmm." He rolls his eyes at her. "Hey, do you want to grab a pizza tonight?"

Her eyes light up-- and then her face falls. "We actually-- we have a thing tonight."

"Your nerd club, huh?" It comes out more bitter than he means it to, and he's already wincing internally as he watches the hurt bloom across Jin's face.

"Maybe tomorrow?" she suggests, instead of taking it out on him.

"Maybe. Whatever," he says, instead of what he wants to which is 'yes, I miss you so much'.

Zoe frowns at him.

"I guess text me," Jin says, and screws on another bright smile before zipping away and up the stairs.

Angie's voice fades out as the door shuts behind the three women-- "What a _dick_."

So that went well.

  
He goes to the library.

 

  
He's sorting out his notes for the fourth time when he finds it; there's an unfamiliar folder mixed in with his study materials. It must be Jin's, accidentally gathered up in the mess when they'd both dropped their things. It's labeled in her surprisingly need handwriting-- O V W.

It must be for one of her classes; he hopes she didn't need it tonight. He flips it open to see if he can recognize the subject matter, and then stares.

It's a character for some kind of ... roleplaying game? Not any of the D&Ds-- shamefully, he would recognize any of those. There's a distinctly homebrewed look to the formatting, clip art of a star logo in the upper corner, the word 'OVERWATCH'. The sheet's full of stats and tightly-written text spilling out of the box marked 'backstory'. He flips it to the back; there's a picture of some kind of robot doodled in. Back to the front.

 **Character name** Zenyatta  
**Race** Omnic  
**Gender** N/A  
**Player name** Zoe M.

The backstory is almost unreadable-- not that Zoe's handwriting is bad, just that it's referencing a history that he doesn't know, the words 'omnic crisis' popping up more than once. Omnic is obviously some flavor of robot, but not in any fandom he knows of.

There's another character sheet.

 **Character name** Angela Ziegler 'Mercy'  
**Race** Human  
**Gender** F  
**Player name** Angie L.

Then there's a carefully inked sketch of another robot-- or maybe a cyborg? It has hair and a human face. He'd recognize Jin's art style anywhere, he knows all the animes she cribs from. It's black and white, except she's taken a green highlighter to the hair.

It almost exactly matches her shocking new haircolor.

...she's not just in a roleplaying group, he realizes, in a flash of inspiration. She's _LARPing_.

This is the club she's been so cagey about?

He doesn't admit to anyone-- not even Jin-- about his shameful, shameful history with DnD 4e in highschool. In fact, he's always been... well, kind of a dick about the whole subject. He might... possibly... be overcompensating. Maybe. Slightly.

He groans quietly, sagging back in his hard library chair. No wonder Jin's been avoiding him. He should probably apologize. And get her her reference stuff back, too. And probably stop going through it.

Although...

There's a stapled, photo-copied booklet on the other side of the folder that looks to have some campaign player notes in it, and he has to admit from what he's read he's pretty interested. And under the sketch is a third character sheet--

  
**Character name** Genji Shimada  
**Race** Human (cyb)  
**Gender** M  
**Player name** Jin A.

And he's already reading the 'backstory' section before he can talk himself out of it.

A few minutes later he's so engrossed in the campaign pamphlet that he doesn't notice his phone vibrate; he flips the page to a new heading -- 'Blackwatch'-- and realizes that his thigh is buzzing and actually has been for a little while.

He pulls it out; the notification screen is a series of texts-- another comes in even as he watches, and another. They're all from Jin.

 _From Jin: hey i think you got some of my stuff_  
_From Jin: not a big deal just bio_  
_From Jin: dont look at it_  
_From Jin: blu folder with OVW on front_  
_From Jin: need it for study group tonite_  
_From Jin: sorry to bother you_  
_From Jin: but i really need those notes back_  
_From Jin: r u even getting these_

She's already typing again when he unlocks the phone and flips to the messaging app, an ellipsis that pulses, then goes static as she stops typing, then vanishes as she deletes whatever she typed, then pulses again

_To Jin: I found your bio notes_

_From Jin: cool u didnt look at them right_

_To Jin: I would never trespass upon the property of the Shimada clan lest my life be forfeit_

_From Jin: omg you asshole_  
_From Jin: rip me_  
_From Jin: orz ;_;_

_To Jin: It's okay. I'm just messing with you._

_From Jin: too late_  
_From Jin: im dead and im in hell_

_To Jin: Look if i tell you a thing I haven't told anyone in this entire state will you forgive me?_

The response is immediate.

_From Jin: YESS :O :O :O_

Han sighs. Well, too late to turn back.

_To Jin: Name: Solithar_  
_To Jin: Class: Ranger_  
_To Jin: Race: High elf_

_From Jin: :3c_  
  
_To Jin: Weapon: Elemental bow_  
_To Jin: Player name: Han O. ages 13-17_

_From Jin: thank u solithar for this gift ;u;_

_To Jin: I shall ever be your ally, Shimada-chan_

_From Jin: <3_  
_From Jin: u want to meet everyone_  
_From Jin: were at the indoor track in Foster_

His eyebrows jump. Foster's the _nice_ indoor track.

_To Jin: How even? Did you break in?_

_From Jin: O: no_  
_From Jin: coach amari is our official fac advisor_  
_From Jin: were an official club_  
_From Jin: she even has a char_

For a day that started out the same as any other, he's having so many revelations. Coach Amari is a _nerd._   Jin is playing a cyborg that's dating a robot that's played by her girlfriend. There's an entire homebrewed scifi campaign being LARPed on this very campus.

He's never LARPed, he's sort of dubious about the whole thing, but there's a part of him that really wants to be in a campaign again. He misses arguing about rolls and updating character sheets and sharing dumb jokes and a whole story with a group of other people.

...it'd end so badly, though, he always gets too serious, there are always hurt feelings.

But wow, he really misses it.

He sweeps his actual homework into a stack, puts the Overwatch folder on top of it. He still has a week before the paper is due, anyway, it's not even a particularly hard assignment. Besides, the walk to Foster might jar his brain a little, provide inspiration.

But he's not thinking the paper as he sets off into the quad; he's thinking about a rebellious Yakuza heir named Genji, and his dark past.

 

 

  
Han's never actually been in Foster when there wasn't a basketball game or something happening; with the double doors shut and most of the lights off, it's downright forbidding. He hovers on the doorstep, wondering if he should text Jin and doublecheck that he's at the right building.

"It's unlocked," someone says behind him, making him jump. Then: "Oh, hey, Han!"

He turns. Johann's jogging up; he's out of breath. He and Carl must have finished up quickly, either that or he ran here all the way from the dorm. Or a combination of the two. The white boy has a huge duffelbag over his shoulder. "Are you here, for, uhhhhh-"

"Overwatch?"

Johann sags in relief. "I didn't want to say it."

"I'm not really-- I accidentally got some of Jin's reference sheets." And some character sheets that weren't hers as collateral, but he doesn't much care about Angie's feelings and nothing bothers Zoe.

"Aw. Well. You know, if you're ever looking for group, we could use another sniper. Coach Amari can't always come, and ever since Julia wrote up a Talon character..." he shakes his head ruefully. "Sorry, nerd stuff."

"No, I get it. Party composition. It's important." Han tries the door, hesitant and hating that he's hesitant. But like Johann said, it's unlocked, and he swings it wide.

Johann ducks past him gratefully, flopping down his duffelbag inside the door and pulling out ... a massive foam rubber warhammer? And then what might actually be an SCA regulation helmet, with foam detailing spraypainted silver.

"I thought this was a Sci-fi campaign," Han says with a frown.

"Well, there's robots and nanites and supersoldiers, but..." Johann gives a sheepish smile. "It all got a little freeform. And I love knights."

"Apparently," Han agrees, bemused, watching him pull out pieces of foam rubber armor and start strapping them on. "How does that work out mechanic-wise? What system do you use?"

"We don't do a lot of actual combat with the story," Johann tells him, between velcroing on his greaves. "We had this one climactic battle that killed everyone and then we all decided to retcon that because we got attached to our characters. So the story happens face to face, the battles aren't canonical... but man, they're fun."

"I've only-" Han rolls a pair of invisible dice. "Tabletop. I'm not sure how that would even work."

"It's great! We build backstories, we do small campaigns and missions online, and every week we get together to murder each other in the gym. Sort of in character. Like training exercises, I guess. Then we don't have to worry about continuity."

"...huh," Han says, dubiously. Maybe this is a little too chaotic for him. That's a disappointing thought, though; he hadn't realized he'd gotten so attached to the character he was musing over on the way, but ... well, it's a moot point, Jin probably wouldn't have gone for it anyway.

He trails along after a now-armored Johann, following him up the central stairs towards the gym.

  
"Anyway. though. Everyone's probably in the gym, I can go in and get Jin's attention. It's going to be hectic in there."

Han can already hear shouts, laughter, the squeak of tennis shoes on polished wood.

"Technically the whole second floor is combat eligible but mostly-" Johann is saying, and that's when the bag of black glitter smacks into his face. Both of them turn on their heels, seeing the shadow lurking in the empty doorway too late.

" _Death comes to the tardy, Reinhardt,_ " the shadow growls.

"Aw," Johann sighs. "I didn't even get in the door."

" _And you, foolish mortal, should be working on your Econ paper._ "

Han's mouth falls open.

"Professor Reyes?"

" _I am Reaper!_ " But the professor is already pulling off his halloween mask, grinning. "Hey, you're not joining up, are you? Do you have a character concept yet? Can I sell you on Talon? Villains get to have much more fun."

"I'm not even sure I'm joining yet." Han holds up a hand. "I just -- I have something of Jin's I need to-"

"Yeah, of course. Hey, Johann, if you don't want to get murdered again you might want to go in OOC." Reyes flashes a quick handsign to remind him.

"I was going to! I didn't think anyone was going to be lurking in the hall, prof," Johann says indignantly.

"Well, that just goes to show you that you should expect an attack at any-"

There's the sound of pounding feet suddenly, and the soft pop of compressed air, and a nerf dart smacks square into professor Reyes' chest.

Han blinks again. The day... somehow just keeps getting weirder. His Econ professor was just assassinated by Jin's bio advisor.

"Dammit, Morrison, really?" Reyes sighs.

"You weren't OOC," Professor Morrison says with a grin, and takes off down the hall back toward another gym entrance.

"I'll get you, my pretty!" Reyes shouts after him.

"Let's go," Johann mutters, and Han does, gratefully.

 

 

The battle is wrapping up when they get into the gym proper; two ragtag teams in bizarre costumes tallying up kills and laughing with each other. Johann trudges over to admit that he got murdered, leading to a round of good-natured razzing.

Han sees Jin in the middle of what must be the overwatch team, wearing a few pieces of foam armor that's sleeker and more cybernetic than Johann's faux-dark ages pieces, and Zoe's in a silver outfit and some cool robotic facepaint. Angie has fabric wings. Of course she does. The costumes are all different, but all thorough.

Everyone here made an effort.

They didn't all make the same effort, which is actually kind of hilarious and amazing, they look like they came out of six different roleplaying systems let alone different campaigns, there's a player from the women's rugby team in classic box-robot armor, that's the center of the men's basketball team in candypunk drag holding a miniature mech, and is that guy wearing a halloween gorilla mask and a storm trooper outfit? What?

Han catches himself grinning and stop instantly. He reminds himself that he doesn't have time for this. Even if he did, Jin might not even want him here. She's being nice about it, but he really was a dick about her 'nerd club' and ... it could be weird.

Jin catches his eye, and she gives him a hesitant smile.

He holds out her folder like a peace offering, and the hesitant smile blooms into a sunny grin. She's glowing with exertion, sweating into her foam rubber, and she's so happy she almost skips over to him to grab it.

"Hey, I'm glad you came."

"Thanks for sharing. I'm sorry about-"

"It's okay, let's just forget it," she says, too fast. "Han, do you, uh-"

"I was wondering if-"

"I mean no pressure but-"

"I wanted to ask you about Genji's backstory."

Jin gasps, looking like all her christmases have come at once. "Oh my god. Yes. I have spent SO much time working on his backstory."

"It's about his brother."

" _Yes._ I never get to talk about his brother. I have a whole thing, I want to do a redemption arc, I want them to reunite, but I can't do it obviously because I can't run my own NPC and nobody else is into it. But oh man I can't stop thinking about them back to back, swords drawn-"

"Does it have to be a sword?" spills out of his mouth, and he shuts it with a snap. He's an idiot.

"I... guess it doesn't have to be," Jin says, blinking. "What are you thinking?"

"I was thinking maybe a bow. Overwatch needs a sniper, right?"

"Oh, that's _awesome._ No, I love it."

"I was thinking--" He makes himself go on. "I miss you, Jin."

"Me too, buddy."

"I -- I was thinking I could join the game."

Her mouth forms a perfect o.

"IwasthinkingIcouldplayGenji'sbrother." He lets out a breath. "Maybe just try it. For a game or two."

Jin inhales and for a second he's worried that he's fucked absolutely everything up, if it wasn't awkward already it sure is now, he's so bad at making friends, he's not going to fit in, Jin's upset and she's trying not to make him feel bad-

"eeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" She hurls herself at him for the second time that day and he grabs her back this time, careful not to mess up any of her armor.

"Hey, darlin', try to keep it a register humans can hear," someone laughs from beside them.

"Shut UP Joel. Han's joining the game. He's going to be part of Genji's backstory! Oh, oh, Han, this is Joel, he plays Jesse McCree, he's-"

"Genji's best friend in blackwatch," Han finishes.

Jin grins up at him, with that pure rper joy he's only experienced once or twice himself-- it's that 'someone actually read my backstory' happiness.

Han gives Joel a long look. He hadn't expected full on Vacquero cowboy in a scifi campaign, but then again... well, look at everyone else. His freaking econ professor is out in the hall dressed like Scream and professor Morrison is letter-jacket bladerunner. Sure. Why not a cowboy. At least nobody can give him shit for playing a samurai.

"Pleased to meet you," says Joel, his twang diminishing but not quite vanishing. He sticks out a hand. "I'm looking forward to it. It'll be good for Genji to have a friend who isn't his dirtbag brother."

"Hey, slap a band-aid on that character bleed," Jin scolds, but Joel ignores her.

"I almost wish someone would play the guy so that I could give him a few rounds in the head, but I can't imagine what kind of creep would want to try him on for size," the cowboy scoffs. "So, who're you playing?"

It's a short sharp jolt of reality to bring him down from the weird giddiness of getting into a sprawling campaign. This is a lot more like it. This is Han's life.

Han doesn't have friends. Han doesn't get invited to things.

No. Han meets the most beautiful man he's ever seen in his life, and the guy's already decided he's a creep.

Fuck him and his thriftstore cowboy hat and his goofy red poncho.

The last doubts have burned away. Han's not just going to play, he's going to play _well._ They want a sniper? They're getting the best sniper, and if they don't like it too bad. He's going to rub his kill count in Joel's gorgeous _face._

"Hanzo Shimada." 

Joel's eyes widen. Han pulls his shoulders back and lifts his chin like the cold-blooded Yakuza assassin he is, and grips Joel's hand, hard.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance... cowboy."


	2. A World of Pure Imagination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of loosely connected scenes starring some of the LARPing dorks who play Overwatch at their unspecified university.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING- for a character recovering from an eating disorder. Not much of that but he does think about it. 
> 
> Love cannot cure an ED, the author recommends actual therapy
> 
> \------
> 
> There is no way to tag pairings usefully when you're dealing with both larper nerds dating and their characters dating. 
> 
> There's in-game Bunny-Ribbit, in-game Genji-Everyone, out of game Reaper76, out of game Genyatta, out of game DvaMaker (is there even a ship name for that?) and Roadhardt (same) and mentioned one-sided McReyes and McGenji and McEveryone in the 'unrequited crush' way, and mainly McHanzo. 
> 
> You see the conflict about the tagging? Yeah. 
> 
> Rule One of Nerd Club is do not ship with the teachers. That's about it.

_Soldier: 76 is moving on the checkpoint when he sees the darker form in the shadows. Without a word he peels away; he keeps to the perimeter, never moving with the team, and this is why. He's a man who death follows; a death he'd rather face alone, without the misguided help of the bright young hopefuls who call themselves 'Overwatch.'_

_He moves alone into the stinking, foggy King's Row alley, not bothering to keep a low profile. Let the Reaper know he's coming._

_He catches movement-- swears. It's not the Reaper's dark cloak, it's a snatch of red, a figure crouched behind a dumpster._

_Young fool._

_No matter how old McCree gets, he'll be a young fool._

_"Always a frontal assault, Jack," a voice rasps, taunting. Reaper steps out of the shadows, shotgun leveled. "Always told you it'd get you killed one day-"_

_The soldier is already moving, twisting, rolling to cover--_

_Something in the vicinity of his knee goes 'pop.'_

 

Sean Morrison collapses, leg close to him, pain like an electric shock up radiating away from the knee. He raises a shaking hand, thumb touching fingers, forming an O. OOC. Combatant no longer in play.

"Professor?" Joel comes scrambling out from behind the recycle bin; further along the shadowy divide between bleachers a nerf shotgun clatters to the floor as Mike drops character and bolts toward him.

"Just my knee," he gasps, although it doesn't feel like 'just' anything-- it feels like someone jammed a steel rod up his thigh and down his shin and then froze the metal.

"Idiot, that'll teach you for stunt rolling," Mike hisses, going to his own knees beside him. As Joel steadies him, Mike slowly guides his knee to extension, probing for damage. His hands are gentle on Sean's leg, and Sean winces for what he knows is coming.

Mike's thumb slides up his thigh, feeling for a seam under his jeans and not finding it, then sweeps back down, and his brow furrows and  gorgeous face goes stormy.

"Seonaidh Fucking Morrison."

Oh no. His full name. He's in for it now.

"Babe, don't swear in front of the students-"

"Yeah, Professor Reyes, watch your fucking language," Joel mutters, averting his eyes from the two of them, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

"Where is your _goddamned kneebrace,_ Morrison?"

"It's uncomfortable," he mutters.

"And this, what, it feels good?"

"It wasn't giving me any trouble-"

"It wasn't giving you any trouble last time!" Mike groans and drops his forehead against Sean's hard enough to rattle his jaw. "Joel, go tell Athena to call the match."

"We don't have to call the match, the kids can still-"

"Shut up. We know your judgement is compromised."

Joel's already climbing into the bleachers towards their referee anyway, and Mike's helping him scoot over to get his back against a wall. Fuck, every muscle in his body seems to link to his patella somehow, and he lets out a hiss as the pain spikes again. Mike grips his shoulder, hard, a counter-irritation that pulls his mind away from the jangling feeling in his leg and mutters spanish profanities into his ear as he tries to soothe his _'dumbass whiteboy husband who thinks he's still in ROTC instead of being forty goddamn years old Morrison you idiot you're going to give me a heart attack one of these days-_

Sean leans into his arms, equal parts comforted and sorry because he knows it actually terrifies his husband to see him in pain like this, maybe more than it terrifies Sean himself. As gorgeous as Miguel Ángel Reyes is when he's angry-- Sean's own archangel Michael, his fighter-- it's not worth it. He doesn't want to put any more lines around those dark eyes. He should have, he admits to himself, worn the damn knee brace.

He grips Mike's hand hard. "It'll be okay. It'll be okay, babe, it's just my knee. It's hard to die of a sprained knee."

"It'd better be okay," Mike rasps.

At first Soldier:76 and Reaper had been empty placeholders; archetypes to slot into Fareeha's new game so that they could run around being idiots with their old friend and her daughter. They'd both thought they'd just do the combat portion of the game, not the actual roleplaying, and they hadn't even bothered to give their characters particularly original names.

But the kids had all gotten so into the roleplaying, and Fareeha and Zoe had developed and developed the setting and the multiple factions in play and they adults had gotten drawn in, chuckling with each other, rolling their eyes gently at the eighteen-to-twenty-year-old attraction to make the angstiest backstories possible.

And then one night over beers with Ana, they hatched The Backstory. It started as a joke-- they'd trump all the kids by giving Reaper, Shrike and Soldier:76 the saddest background of all, complete with friendships gone sour and faked deaths and betrayal.

But they weren't going to get invested in it, they promised each other.

Famous last words.

Now they sneak into the RP discord when they have the chance, fleshing out the lives and deaths of Jack Morrison, Ana Amari, and Gabriel Reyes. The game's something they share now, something fun, and he hates the idea that he won't be able to play combat-- and the idea that the stress of his real life injury might ruin the delicious angst of what's supposed to be an escapist game.

But he remembers how it was last time. Especially between him and Mike; it's hard to play love/hate with Soldier and Reaper when the two of them are worried about each other. It's hard for him to get into the head of the grizzled old Soldier when he's having a very real crisis about his own age and his body falling apart.

When Mike grips his hand hard enough to distract him from the screaming pain in his knee, it's hard to imagine that Jack could have had someone like Gabriel Reyes watching his back and ever feel anything toward him but adoration.

Above them, they hear two sharp whistles.

 

 

* * *

**And almost simultaneously-**

_On a rooftop in King's Row, two dragons confront each other._

_One bows his head, and though his face is hidden behind the visor, his sorrow is evident. "I did not want it to come to this, brother."_

_"My brother is dead." Shimada Hanzo's gaze is as sharp as the arrow trained on the cyborg's neck. "You are only a shadow that Overwatch has taught that it is a man."_

_"And what has Talon taught you, Hanzo?"_

_Hanzo's jaw clenches. He does not answer. He says instead: "I will put you down so that my brother's spirit can rest easy; then at long last the world will consume the dragon. The line of Shimada will end and the world will be the better for it."_

_"You'll just roll over and let Overwatch kill you?" The visored face jerks up. "No! Fight! Fight me and keep fighting!"_

_"As you wish..." A soft sigh. "Brother."_

 

And two short, sharp whistle blasts cut through the conversation.

Han lowers his bow. It's only a toy, but his habits come from actual archery classes. He tucks his soft-tipped arrow back into his quiver as brain races. He memorized the combat rules when he started, but it's been a few months and he has to go rifling through his memory for what two whistles means; he's only heard the standard long whistle blast for 'round begin' and 'round end'.

"Someone's hurt," Jin says, muffled behind her mask.

That's right. Two whistles means Hold Match, Injury on the Field.

Jin pulls off her mask and starts looking around for what's happened; Han follows suit, glance shooting from cluster to cluster of milling larpers. No obvious injuries.

He sweeps his gaze up to the second level of bleachers, the concrete steps that he and Jin were fighting on. Julia's the only one up here with them, and she's okay-- but she's staring down at something he can't see, blocked by the wooden pull-out bleachers and the makeshift obstacles on the field.

"What is it?"

"Professor Morrison's down. I think it's his knee again!"

"Oh no," Jin says, immediately starting to pick her way over.

"Again?" Han asks, following a step behind.

"He pulled something a few months ago, he couldn't come back for weeks," she frets. "And one of his TAs had to take his classes for a little bit, and that guy was the worst."

They regroup with Julia; she points down to where, indeed, the older man is propped up against a back wall, clasping an icepack to his knee. Professor Reyes is with him; he's helped his husband out of his blue bomber jacket and pillowed it behind his back.

"I hope he's okay," Jin sighs.

"I'm sure he will be." Han pats her shoulder.

He can't keep a frown off his face, though. He's never LARPed before, let alone in a combat setting-- these weekly battle royales are exhilerating, but it's a splash of icewater in the face to remember that they actually are a little bit at risk. He doesn't worry for himself, but Jin's tiny-- it'd just take one of the bigger players, Ellen or Johann or Joel tripping over her...

Jin would point out that he's not a huge guy himself, but he's just going to ignore that. He's resilient.

"Athena!" Julia yells. "I'm going to call campus security to give him a ride to the clinic, okay?"

"Good plan!" their referee yells back. "Someone should go meet them. Someone who's not in blue spandex, Jules, sorry. Han, can you go down?"

He gives a thumbs up and a big nod instead of yelling back.

"Hey, Han? Can you stick around after?" Jin asks.

"Sure, why?"

"I was thinking we could scene. I mean, we're all in costume anyway, and I-- I don't just want to go home and worry, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." He ruffles her green hair. "I'll come back as soon as the professor's taken care of."

"Thanks, Aniki." She winks. He smiles awkwardly back at the in-joke, trying to hide that it makes his chest hurt a little.

Unlike their characters, they're not related at all; he only met Jin last year when the assholes in housing stuck him in a female-only dorm room. ...and it only took a month of living with Jin to feel like he had known her all his life, to fall into a surly older-brother role. It's one of the reasons he jumped at the opportunity to fill in her character's missing sibling.

He'd been delighted to play an antihero. Having a bad guy around brings depth and conflict to stories. But sometimes... sometimes it's not easy.

Even during these non-canon battles, where the teams change to match composition requirements and not actual in-character motivations, he can feel his own conflict bleeding into his character. He can't imagine how you could have a little sibling like Genji (like Jin) and ever lay a hand on them.

He strips out of the outer layers of his costume, folding them, laying his bow on top of them, and then hurries down the steps and out of the gym to meet campus security.

 

 

* * *

**And Not Long After That-**

It was a good plan to send Han out, Joel has to admit that. The Overwatch LARP group has had their fair share of run-ins with the suspicious campus security officers. They're technically an authorized sports club-- technically-- but they don't fit into the basketball/lacrosse/football comfort zone and almost every time security pops up they've had to go through a grilling.

Coach Amari can short circuit that when she's here-- but she's at an away game with the basketball team, and that means convincing security to even call her in the first place to confirm that yes they are allowed to be in Foster, yes they've signed all their waivers. And getting a random security officer to even make that phonecall is a process that can and has taken upwards of an hour.

But Han's a serious guy who oozes teacher's pet, and with his gi off and his glasses on he reads much more 'serious econ student' then 'disgraced yakuza'. If you don't know his character, his dragon-printed shirt is just a cool shirt, and not a stand-in for a full shoulder and sleeve of tattoos.

Joel tries not to think about Hanzo's tattoos. About Hanzo (or Han) shirtless in general. They don't really like each other much. So what if he's seen the concept art that Jin developed with the other guy and Hanzo's a total bara babe, it's just a character.

So what if the scenes between Hanzo and McCree crackle with coiled tension, that he stays up late hanging on the tantalizing message that /Drag0nB0w is typing/ in the in-character chatroom as cowboy and ronin spat, spar, and drink their way through the fictional Watchpoint Gibraltar.

So what if he sort of wonders what Han would look like with his actual chest and arm exposed, holding a real bow.

It's not a thing.

(It's a thing)

(But it's only a thing like his sort of sad crushes on several of the other players-- including Coach Amari and Professor Reyes, not that he would ever admit it to another living soul-- were a thing. It's a thing that will go away. He'll draw some guilty art, write some fanfic he doesn't share, and it will pass. He can keep IC and OOC separated. This too will pass.)

(It hasn't yet, but it will.)

He watches from the second floor of the Foster entryway as Han coordinates with security, apparently accidentally blocking them from heading into the gym with his compact body and his curt sentences. He stalls them more than long enough for Johann and Ellen to get out of their costumes of 'bombastic giant older german knight' and 'disney princess war robot' respectively, and carry Professor Morrison out on their linked hands, with Professor Reyes behind them closing the doors on the colorful mayhem that they made out of the gymnasium.

He lets out a breath when the front doors close again; Professor Morrison is successfully packed into the security golf cart for a ride to the on-campus clinic, and nobody's going to accuse anyone of trespassing.

Relief makes his shoulders a little looser, and he gives Han a reckless smile as he makes his way up the stairs.

"Good job, man."

"Thank you. I wasn't sure I could successfully hold a conversation either," Han says coolly, shooting him a withering look.

Oh shit. Paranoid bastard thinks he's being made fun of. And given how their first meeting went, it's not like he doesn't have a reason to suspect Joel of bad intent.

"It's not-- hey, it's not like that. I mean, I don't know if Jin told you, but we have a history of making not a great impression. Like the first time Professor Morrison's knee went out, Julia went out to meet them and she was still in --" he waves vaguely as if he can somehow fully describe the impression that security got from blue spandex, blue facepaint, gold spider helmet. "I think they thought we were doing a cirque du soleil thing at the end there. And then once Harry passed out because he wouldn't take the damn gorilla mask off even though it was 90 degrees in here and I took him out to get some air and they grilled us about what we were doing in Foster. Harry was still in his leg armor and I was still in costume and I panicked-" he's babbling.

"-and I tried to convince them we were part of a line dancing class?"

Han's resting asshole-face contorts into confusion, and then his mouth twitches like he's about to sneeze.

And then he laughs, a big snorting barking laugh.

"Line dancing? LINE DANCING?"

"I'm not proud of it, okay?"

He's never seen Han smile before. It's lopsided and unpracticed.

It's really, really cute.

"Hey, uh, I know people are sticking around to do in-person scenes. Do you, uh, do you want, I know you and Jin've been updating the Shimada backstory." He's going to just let that monstrosity of a sentence go. "Want to fill me in? Maybe RP a little with the new backstory?"

"I... maybe." Han looks suspicious, still. "It doesn't change much. They're not twins anymore. Hanzo's the older brother."

His brow furrows. "So... if he wasn't getting Genji out of the way to inherit the empire, what's the new story?"

"Genji pissed off the clan elders. They sicced Hanzo on him as a loyalty test, instead."

"Christ," Joel says. That's dark.

"It's the same after that. He still regrets it, he's still bringing down the clan."

"Yeah, McCree might feel a way about that. You know, with all the shit he did on orders from his gang. And how he fell out of Blackwatch."

"He shouldn't," Han says sharply. "Hanzo still maimed his brother. He's still not a good guy."

"Neither's Jesse."

"Jesse was how old, exactly, when he was recruited by Blackwatch?"

"Yeah, that just means Hanzo spent longer getting browbeaten by his family."

"I don't--" Han makes a fist, drives it into his own thigh, like his body's a staticy old TV and he can make it work by hitting it hard enough. "I'm not trying to excuse what he's done, okay? It just fit their dynamic better. I'm not making excuses and I'm not trying to get out of negative CR, so don't-"

"Who said you were?"

"Well you're the one who's had McCree going from 'I want to put a bullet in his head' to 'I'm going to get wasted on the roof with him', and that's without the new backstory, so-"

"Are you saying I'm playing him OOC?" Joel bridles. "Hey, I'm not dodging negative CR either. He's got a good IC reason to see things in shades of grey and his opinion of Hanzo is _evolving._ "

"Then I'm playing him wrong! He's still a shithead!"

Joel can see the moment that the other guy's rage turns inward, can see Han's face fall.

"I signed up to play Genji's brother so Genji could get some resolution from his backstory. Hanzo's shit doesn't matter. I'm just going to kill him off when Jin gets what she needs out of it anyway. He's a useful sniper and he's a story prop, okay? He's not supposed to be likable. He doesn't need to make friends, it'd be -- stupid to give him a happy ending."

And suddenly Joel understands. He actually does understand. Because he's been this same stubborn idiot himself.

"...did Jin ever tell you I was going to play Jesse as an unrecoverable alcoholic? And a straight guy, too."

Han gives him a bewildered look, obviously wondering what the hell that has to do with anything.

"Because it seemed more 'narratively honest' or something dumb like that. Like I'd be a better RPer for doing storylines that made me unhappy. And then Jin sat me down and she said-"

Understanding washes across Han's face; the weird tangent slots into place, and he murmurs along with Joel:

"'You know you don't get extra points for not having fun, right?'"

"You too, huh?"

"Yeah." Han chews on his lip. "She doesn't want me to kill him off. She wants them to reconcile for real."

"I mean. Why not?"

No answer.

"Because you'd like that too much? Because Hanzo might actually not hate himself for thirty seconds?"

"...shut up," Han mutters, but it's more resigned than angry.

"Think about it. If you want to work it out IC, maybe over sake in Gibraltar, you know where to find me."

"Whatever. Look, I promised Jin I'd scene with her, I have to go," Han says, dropping his gaze and shoving past him.

Joel stays out on the landing instead of following him into the gym. He looks down to the empty front hall and tips his stetson forward to hide his eyes.

Man, he doesn't think he's letting himself play Jesse OOC, but now he's not sure. Because Jesse doesn't know how much Hanzo hates himself, what a ball of misery, that's knowledge only Joel has. And it's hard for him to separate knowing how self critical the archer-- and his player-- both are from the way Jesse feels about the archer.

He catches himself thinking that it would be dishonest somehow, 'cheating' (as if the game has rules) to engineer a scene where Jesse and Hanzo can really lay things bare. But there's Jin in his head, reminding him that _you don't get extra points for not having fun_.

And he can't imagine being someone as lonely and as occasionally poor at judgement as Jesse McCree and not being drawn toward even someone he should hate.

 

* * *

**And more or less at the same time-**

Jin's waiting in the bleachers for Han to come back in. She hopes he's not arguing with Joel again; she thought they were past that.

She's excited about an in-person scene; they usually do RP online, but everyone's here and more or less in costume and it's going to be super cool. She loves just watching LARP; it's easy to project characters onto her friends, and then she's basically watching the Awesome Overwatch Movie that will Never Be Made, complete with special effects.

She's especially looking forward to more Genji-and-Hanzo, selfishly. There's a push and pull between Genji missing his brother and Genji still hurting from the old betrayal that makes all of their scenes extra dramatic. Om nom nom _drama._ She hopes Han's having fun.

If he's not actually in the mood to scene, though... she knows he's only in the game because of her, because it's a way to spend more time with each other, but it makes her feel a little guilty some times. And maybe she should pick up some older scenes-- she knows she has a bad tendency to bounce from new CR to new CR, sort of leaving old friendships and old plotlines in stasis once the main conflict is resolved. It's all well and good to play for fun, but she has to make sure she's not making other people feel unwanted.

...and like he read her mind, Luis is coming up the stairs toward her. Genji hasn't talked to Lucio in weeks despite them being neon pals. They are super overdue.

"Hey, you want a Neon Pals Teamup Scene? Ooh, we could do that April Fools thing we handwaved and never went back to."

"Yeah," he says, quietly. "Some kind of scene, anyway." He flops down next to her, fiddling with one of his braids.

"...are you okay, bud?"

"...sort of not."

She makes a soft aw sound, and pets his shoulder. "What's up?"

"Character bleed. Super bad."

"About what?"

"Bunnyribbit."

"Oh no." Oh no, Bunnyribit is the cutest in-canon ship. Everyone thinks so. "What's wrong? Did Kyle do something stupid?"

"No, Kyle is consistently awesome. Which is the entire problem."

She tracks his eyes down to the gym floor, where Kyle and Julia are sitting together, sharing either an out-of-character moment or the crackiest-possible-AU. Julia is grinning and fixing Kyle's pink whisker makeup, straightening his wig. They kiss; it leaves Kyle with blue lipstick, and they laugh. Adorable.

"Ohhh," Jin breathes.

"Yeah." Luis shakes his head gloomily. "I'm getting bitter over my own actual character. For dating a girl."

"That sort of happened with me and Joel once when we were doing a McGenji PSL. He got over it, though."

"Yeah? It didn't bug you?"

"It was weird for a little. He wasn't a jerk about it, though, he knows I'm only into girls. He just sighed a little and worked on getting over it? But I wasn't upset or anything."

"I don't think Kyle's going to gay panic at me, either, I just hate the tension. And man, I promised myself I was over crushes on straight guys."

"We promise ourselves a lot, huh?" She puts an arm around his shoulders. "...I'm on hiatus on my Genmercy AU too. Like. I am super happy with Zoe and I don't really have a crush on Angie but it got a little too real there."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She gives him a reassuring look. "...you know, just let him and Julia know what you're feeling? It's how I keep from going crazy, I talk to Zoe whenever I'm getting second-hand thirst from Genji, and she helps me put it into context. Unless you think they'd be assholes about it?"

"No, they're great. I'll talk to them."

"And run other scenes, get Lucio some storylines that aren't just romance."

"You're right." He gives her a better smile now, one with the sunshine back in it. "Like... April Fools pranks?"

"Totally like that!"

"Cool."

And she thinks she feels Genji have a little flutter, just a little, at the idea, of spending time with his neon boombox bud. She's pro Gencio. She's pro basically everyone. She doesn't ship-push ever and she tries to do storylines that aren't 'and then Genji kisses your character', but she loves everyone in the Overwatch game, and it's hard to imagine being surrounded by all these amazing characters and not loving them a little.

 

 

* * *

**And Then That Night-**

Carl is picking at his salad and trying to have a conversation with his boyfriend, and it's going not great. Conversation isn't great in the little steakhouse at the best of times; it's the one semi-classy restaurant within an easy walk of campus that isn't a cafeteria, so everyone goes on dates here, and it's always packed and loud.

"I'm sorry, honey," Johann apologises, for the fourth or fifth time after a conversation in the next table over derails his story about the rugby game.

"No, it's loud, it's okay. They're distracting me, too."

Ellen and Haley are mutual friends; they're all in the LGBT organization, and Ellen plays the same rugby position as Johann but on the girl's team ('support your local hooker', they say), Haley takes him to the art movie screenings that are too po-mo for her girlfriend.

Ellen's also in Johann's weird roleplaying game, which is what she's currently complaining about at a table nearby.

"-major characteristics are 'killer robot' and 'likes animals'. It is a combat-and-crack character. It does not need emotional character relationships," Ellen rants, stabbing at her fries with a fork. Haley smiles indulgently. "And here comes Liz 'my new character's an engineer who built omnics, he has guilt, he's going to grudgingly befriend all of them'. 'Oooh you have a backstory tie now.'"

Haley nods, and smiles. Johann is visibly trying not to laugh, and Carl's heart goes out to Haley because what does any of this mean.

"Bastion was specifically built to be backstory-proof," Ellen concludes miserably, putting her head in her hands.

Haley gives her short-cropped hair a gentle tug, then starts running her fingernails through it, mint-green polish contrasting against the fire-engine-red dye in Ellen's hair.

"You have no idea what I'm talking about," Ellen mutters into her palms.

"I really don't, sweetheart."

"I'm going to get emotionally invested," Ellen whines. "I don't have time to be emotionally invested."

"I know, honey." Haley catches the boys looking at her, and shrugs delicately, still running her nails comfortingly through her girlfriend's hair. Johann gives her a guilty grin, and redirects his attention again.

"It's funny, because-" he stops, and his face falls.

"You can talk about it, you know," Carl says. He's bruised and torn this poor leaf of arugula to death; he forks it into his mouth, making himself swallow even though it's dry and bitter. "I know you love the game."

"I love you," Johann says, and it's sweet and perfect and Carl feels as bitter as the salad because he knows his boyfriend means it and knows that he's good and doesn't deserve jealousy and insincerity but here it is.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No I don't want you to stop," he snaps. "I'm trying to be reasonable about this."

"You're being great about it, but you look so unhappy-"

"Well, yeah, I'm jealous. Okay? It's not fair, but I am, so just-- let me cope with that."

Johann reaches out for his hand, and then-- heartbreakingly-- stops. "...is this about Han?"

"It is not about Han, ugh."

"Because he's not interested in me-"

"I'm not jealous of him," Carl says, sharp and low because unlike Ellen he will actually die if he makes a scene. "I'm jealous of you."

"...huh?"

"You have this big-- thing. And all these friends. And you look so happy when you're telling me about it and I don't understand, it's like Greek except I actually took some Greek in high school."

"Oh, baby-"

"And that's okay, I'm not some harridan who won't let you have your own hobbies, I'm not-"

"You'd be welcome to play too, we'd love to have you-"

"I don't-- I've never done it, I wouldn't even know how."

"That's okay. Everyone's super supportive, Kyle's new to RP too. Roleplaying."

"Kyle?"

"Kyle Chung, he plays. And Julia."

"Kyle Chung 'star forward on the basketball team' Kyle Chung? And his girlfriend 'actual professionally models' Julia LaCroix?"

"Yeah, them. Kyle plays a Korean defense vet named Hana, Julia plays a sniper named Amelie. See? It's not just for nerds."

Johann stops because Carl can't control his expression. It's-- jealous. Bitter. A little lonely. It's his own fault for not being a people-person. But he doesn't think Johann can even understand what it's like to want to be something and not be it. How hard it is to care about something without a protective layer of irony. To share something and be so happy about it and somehow not care about making mistakes. Whatever.

"...I'm blowing this date, huh?" Johann says quietly.

"No. I am." Carl gets up, and his heart unfrosts a little at the expression of shame on his boyfriend's face. "...I'm sorry, I just-- stress, and it's not you. I just need to get home and have some quiet time, okay? Please don't be mad at me."

"I'm not. I'm not," Johann promises him, and takes his hands and actually un-ironically, passionately, desperately kisses the knuckles on each one. "Be okay, babe, please?"

"I will," he murmurs, leaning down to kiss Johann's forehead. "And I'll call you if I need company."

That's an old promise, from early in their relationship, when he was handling his homesickness ... less well. Johann pulled him out of a very dark place, stands like a knight in shining armor between him and falling back into that place. And even if Carl doesn't always feel like he deserves the attention, he'll ask for help when he needs it because it's what Johann wants more than anything.

He walks home in a funk, brain stewing over nothing, picking at what little he can remember about this... Star Wars? Game? The least sexy roleplaying ever? There's nothing there he can connect to. He should have listened. Asked his boyfriend about his hobby. Something.

Han's there when he gets back to their dorm room, holed up under his lofted bed with his binder off and a loose t-shirt on, scowling at a textbook as if it's offended him personally. He doesn't look up. Carl doesn't greet him. It's the only way they can even remotely stand each other.

There's a folder on the floor by his chair-- Han flung his bag down and didn't pick up what spilled-- and Carl reaches down to clean it up and maybe gripe at him or something, when he sees that it's labeled 'Overwatch' in Han's neat, somehow-aggressive handwriting.

"...can I borrow this?"

Han looks over his glasses at him.

"And do what with it."

"Read it, asshole."

His roommate's jaw works, and Carl watches as the guy actually stops himself from saying something shitty. Which, since when?

"...fine. Try not to fuck up any of the art, some of it's the originals."

"I'm not going to use it as a placemat, god."

"Whatever." Han goes back to his textbook and it may actually be the most productive conversation they've ever had.

There's-- a lot. There's a lot of stuff in the folder. The pamphlet that explains the setting and the rules is the most important part, and the part Carl gets the least out of. Then there's a bunch of art references-- and then the actual art, mostly in pencil. Drawings of these random people. Some of it's by Han. One piece, incredibly detailed, is signed JIN with a heart locked around the I.

He knows it's Han's character-- for one thing, it's not hard to make the leap to the name 'Hanzo'. For another, Han's been stashing a toy bow in the closet for weeks.

He glances at his roommate-- small, muscular in that little compact way-- and at the greying, tattooed stud in the art. Back at Han. Back at Han-zo and his very exposed pectoral. Han. Hanzo. Han. Hanzo.

They have the same scowl, he realizes, and suddenly it doesn't feel as... incomprehensible that Han pretends to be this slab of beefcake.

He wonders suddenly what Johann shares with his character. What could a good boy like Johann possibly want to change about himself?

He shuts the folder and puts it pointedly on Han's chair, not on the floor, turning his back to the whole scene and turning on his laptop. But after a few minutes of idly scrolling through twitter without reading his timeline, a glance at Tom and Lorenzo without caring about the headlines, he finds himself wandering through google instead, looking up superheroes and robots, searching the question 'what is an RPG'.

And then 'What is an RPG NOT videogame'

And after a while 'How to create RPG character'

That leads him to something called Hero Machine-- _Create your own super-hero,_ it promises. When he clicks it, it loads up a template like a fashion maquette, a nude, ken-doll male body waiting to be customized.

It's a nasty shock-- he almost rears back. It's the perfect superhero body, more toned than a real man could ever be. What was he expecting? Stupid, what was he expecting?

He remembers eating way too little and exercising way too much; he remembers passing out in the gym and coming too with a gorgeous blond bodybuilder cradling him. He remembers having to cover all the mirrors and how furious he was that months into the semester they were suddenly going to saddle him with a roommate when he desperately, desperately needed privacy.

He should close out of the tab and he knows it; he doesn't. He grits his teeth and clicks through the customizations, chiseled face after chiseled face. He chooses none of them, goes instead to headpieces >> masks and looks for something that will hide the perfect jawline, hunts out the ugliest clothes he can find, vandalizing the body onscreen with silent fury. There's paper-doll gut he can put on it, jowls, a gas mask, ugly tattoos--

When he looks at his creation again, the anger and the panic are gone. The character isn't an Adonis anymore, it's not anything; just a mash of conflicting elements and horror, overlapping masks and marks that make no sense.

He slowly starts deleting his more spiteful additions. Maybe he can do this, make a character and not hate that he doesn't live up to it.

There's a familiarity somewhere in the mess-- he thinks of Ellen and her now two-years-running appearance as 'Eddie' in their unofficial Rocky Horror showing; he leaves the Meatloaf gut and vest, even as he cleans up the ugliest of the tattoos.

A person starts to take shape under his clicks, a character with a personality, a story. He doesn't know what it is, but--

He looks at what he's created, this heavyset man in a horror-movie mask, and sees someone completely out of fucks. Someone who was good and a normal person once, before whatever horrible thing devastated his fucks-to-give supply; now tired and ready to wreck shit. This guy looks in the mirror and knows what he'll see and he's at peace with it. There's a philosopher under that gas mask and the biker leathers, Carl catches himself thinking, and then rolls his eyes at himself.

"Looks like a junker."

Han's comment startles him so badly he flips his wireless mouse off the desk; it clatters to the floor, batteries spilling out like a grisly accident scene.

"What?" he snaps.

"The character. He looks like a junker. In Overwatch."

"Okay. What's a junker?" Carl asks, pointedly patient.

Han's eyes slip to the folder and ...

Then amazingly he doesn't say anything bitchy about Carl not remembering all of the information in it.

"They're survivors of the Omnic war. There were anti-robot factions still going long after the official truce-- they wound up basically nuking the Australian outback to kill a bunch of robots. Killed a lot of other people, too, and now it's all extremely Mad Max," he says instead, in a careful monotone. He's just daring Carl to make fun of him for it.

Carl doesn't. He deliberately picks up his poor fallen mouse, putting the batteries back in and replacing the plastic hatch.

"We have another junker character," Han goes on cautiously. "Just joined. He's having trouble getting CR. That stands for Character Relations.  Because most of the characters don't have an excuse to go to Australia and he doesn't have the resources to get his character out of Australia. So if you were going to join, you'd be doing him a favor."

"What's he like? His character."

"...like if one of the guys from Jackass was a twink. Basically."

Carl laughs before he can stop himself.

"Jamison Fawkes, but his codename is Junkrat."

"I don't know how to name a character. I'm not calling him 'Carlzo,'" Carl adds, and regrets it because for five seconds he and his roommate were almost talking like civilized people.

Han gives him a withering look, but he puts down his textbook and leans forward.

"The faculty players use their actual last names, so just remember if you make fun of me, you're making fun of Coach Amari, too."

"Coach Amari plays?"

"Coach Amari is our faculty sponsor and the reason we get to shoot nerf guns at each other in Foster every weekend," Han says.

"What?"

"Yeah. Professor Morrison and Professor Reyes play, too. Their characters were in the OG Overwatch. ...so was your boyfriend's, and Angie's, but I think Angie forgets that Mercy is in her forties most of the time. Oh, and Lena's character was too, but there was some timetravel bullshit, she's still in her twenties."

Whatever. "...what's Johann's character like?"

"Reinhardt? He's... like Johann, on steroids, in a couple decades." Han says, shaking his head. "Here, give me a second, there's a picture of him on the discord."

Han taps at his phone for a minute, then holds it out. There's an inked, flat-color drawing of a massive man-- white beard like Heston playing Moses, muscles like Arnie playing Conan. He's half out of a suit of armor.

Carl definitely does not imagine his boyfriend suddenly looking like that, or murmur the word 'Daddy' under his breath.

"He's pure of heart," Han goes on, ignoring the comment that Carl absolutely did not make. "Very German. Very black and white morality. Good, capital G. Mild Don Quixote complex. Loves currywurst, apparently."

"That's... cute." It's adorable. Carl immediately loves Reinhardt Wilhelm, helplessly; he feels the huge gap between anything he could come up with and something so quintessentially Johann.

"I don't know how you play this game." It just slips out, frustrated. "I don't understand the rules, I don't understand the story."

Han drums his fingertips on his leg.

Very, very reluctantly, each word coming out as painfully as a pulled tooth: "I could. Explain. It. To. You."

Equally reluctantly, Carl forms the sentence: "That would be nice. Thank you."

It's three am when Han finally goes to bed. They've spent the last hour swearing at each other with increasing ferocity as Han laid out more of the stupidly complicated rules and Carl failed to remember some detail or another, but it...wasn't actually awful.

He's got a sense, at least, that there's a lot of talking-roleplaying and that he can ease into the part of it that needs statistics, and he's not obliged to come to the weekly nerds-with-nerfs battles but he's welcome.

It's frustrating and overwhelming but it also-- it sounds like it could be fun. He could do this. With Johann and apparently half of the rest of the cool kids on campus. He could do this and just pretend to be this out-of-fucks sad biker bear who wandered through a horror movie and was so badass he came out the other side with half of the villain’s gear and it sounds ~liberating~ or something.

Carl takes a screenshot of the character on his laptop, and traces it inexpertly, changing details that the online app didn't allow customization on, doodling a tattoo on the round canvas of the stomach. He needs to do some research. The name 'Mako' popped into his head-- like a shark-- and it feels right, but he's not just going to play a character with a Polynesian name and not do his homework.

Mako's sort of beautiful, actually. Carl can't handle a pudge on himself, but he can love it on other guys. He'd feel worse about not knowing if he wants to inhabit this character or fuck this character, but Han showed him all the character art the other players have posted and oh my actual god. If Joel doesn't want to fuck that big shaggy cowboy Carl will eat a brick.

He needs to go to bed, too-- his 8 am class is already a write-off, but it's not an attendance based one, it's fine. He's exhausted, but the nasty bitter seed he came home with is gone.

Johann is asleep, but Carl texts his away message, knowing that it will get read in the morning.

_You were my best gentleman last night_

_I'm sorry I got upset, it isn't you, I hope dinnner was okay. Rain check and I'll pay next time._

_I'm feeling better_

_Han actually helped, try not to have a heart attack_

_Can we talk about Overwatch tomorrow? NBD if you're busy_

_Love you, shining armor <3_

He can't imagine how this is going to go, but he think he's ready to take the risk.

 

* * *

**Then, The Next Morning, in a house off campus**

Sean stirs in bed.

"Mmm. What time is it?" he slurs softly.

Mike looks up from his laptop. "Seven."

"PM?"

"AM."

"Hon, did you sleep?"

"Yeah. Don't worry, I didn't stay up all night worrying." Only a little of it.

"Mmmm. Okay."

"You woke up around four. I gave you another dose of the muscle relaxants from the doc. You're probably still a little high."

"Yeah, I think so." His husband sighs softly, trying to stretch his torso without moving his leg. "You'd love me if I was in a walker, right?"

"You know I would, cariño."

"I don't want to have to use a walker."

"I know."

"Oh, god, I have to pee." Sean's face contorts in misery. "That means getting up."

"I know. Big tough soldier, I'll help you."

"Fuuuuck."

Even with Mike under his arm it's not a pleasant trip to the bathroom and back-- Mike can feel every flinch and hear every soft curse. His kingdom for a supersoldier program, so that he could carry his bulky husband in a bridal carry.

Sean is pale and sweating when he gets him settled back in bed, with a bottle of water by his arm.

"Give me my laptop, Mike, I have to email my TAs-"

"Maybe let me do that? You're pretty high right now."

"...okay, babe, thank you."

"Anything to avoid a repeat of last time."

"Hah, oh god." They do not speak of last time, when Sean tried to organize his substitutes while under the influence of pain medication.

"I'm going to do my four-pm class, but I'm skipping my eleven-o-clock. Olivia can take that one. I'll be home with you all morning," Mike promises him. "The meds they prescribed should be ready soon."

"You're an angel, Angel." Sean blinks, smiles, takes another step towards lucidity. "What are you up to?"

"Lesson plans."

"Mm, not sad Overwatch fanfic?"

"No." Half an hour ago, yes. Now, it's actually lesson plans.

"I know you put all your angst on poor Gabe."

"'Poor Gabe' is a terrorist, lover."

"Yeah, but he's sad. And hot."

"He's a decaying cloud of nano-machines."

"Jack's into it," Sean says firmly. "I'm making a character choice. Jack Morrison is into smoke monsters. Put it on my character sheet."

"No character choices while you're high, babe," Mike teases, acutely aware that half an hour ago he typed the words _"How dare they kill that which is mine to destroy?" Reaper's torn lips crushed down on the Soldier's. The air was thick with the smell of blood and fear, all that remained of the Talon soldier who dared leave a mark on the old Soldier._ Sean can read it and make fun of him later, when he's feeling better.

He's known Sean for seven years, not decades. Sean was ROTC but never went career army. None of their friends have ever faked their death. He can shove things he's afraid of into the world of make believe because it isn't real and doesn't loom up ahead of him.

He can't imagine losing Sean. He'll write all the angsty fanfic he needs, instead.

And then do his lesson plans, and sort out all the things they need to sort out while Sean's off his feet.

It'll be okay.

The muted sun streams through the blinds and lights up the silver in Sean's gold hair, and it's still one of the most beautiful things he's ever seen, and it's going to be okay.

* * *

**And at last, much later -**

It's been two weeks since Professor Morrison blew his knee, and everything has been a little subdued in the world of Overwatch. The major plotlines are all paused while they wait for the Soldier to come back and move them along, and combat weekends are a little less boisterous. People are taking the time to flesh out their characters.

It’s given them time to get Jamison and Mako up to speed in game—they’re a load of fun, Angie’s already coming up with alternate costume concepts with her usual terrifying zeal, and Han has admitted—out loud, even—that he doesn’t hate having his one-time nemesis roommate in game. Hanzo and Mako talk to each other like scholars. (Han and Carl still talk to each other like fighting tomcats.)

And, most pertinent to Joel’s hopes and dreams, off in private chat, Hanzo and Jesse McCree have been talking like friends. About everything.

They've gotten drunk together, laughed together, made breakfast, made midnight insomnia food. Hanzo tells McCree all the things he can't burden Genji with. McCree tells him all the things he's not proud of.

And now Han and Joel sit in Joel's room, and they talk to each other, sharing things they aren't proud of, springboarding off of the careful friendship their characters share.

"My first OC was an archer, too. He had the dumbest angsty backstory; it was all about him, him, him, wah, wah, wah. I think I fridged his entire family? I never pinned it down," Han sighs. "That's why I was trying so hard to let Jin run the storylines. I wanted to make up for hogging the spotlight and being a dick about my character back in the day. You know? Center somebody else's pain for once."

"It's sweet of you. It is. She was so happy when you joined. I was just jealous, like we'd wrapped up the 'Jesse and Genji reunite' story and she was just moving on to something better."

"She doesn't mean to do that."

"I know. And... I'd had the idea of the brother for so long. I used him as a punching bag for Jesse's anger, I didn't leave any room for an actual character. So that was all on me."

"I knew he wasn't going to be a popular guy. I kept taking it personally when people hated him IC even though I told myself I wouldn't. I was projecting a lot, when I accused you of being too nice to him and wanting to avoid conflict."

"Can we both agree we were assholes?"

"How dare you, Cowboy?" Han smiles, halfway. "Kidding. I agree."

"...you know, I've never actually seen a horse in person? I grew up in Phoenix, I don't think I've ever been to an actual ranch in my entire life."

"Psht, that's nothing. My family's been living in Seattle since before Seattle was hipster. I've been to Japan exactly once, to see some cousins. I was twelve. I feel like such a dick playing Hanzo sometimes when Jin is actually... from Kyushu."

"Aw, it's future Japan. And her family's printers, not criminals, it's not like she's got much in common with Genji. Don't take it to heart, darl."

Joel hears the words come out, and winces at himself.

"How's that character bleed? Cowman." Han turns to give him that lopsided, strained smile, and Joel feels his pulse pick up.

"...you want to see a new drawing I did?" he says, grabbing for the first topic that isn't 'It's not because of Jesse McCree that I use pet names for you in my head.'

"New one? Always."

Han's seen them all at this point, even the guilty ones. In Joel's sketchpad, Jesse's been ravished by about every member of Overwatch, Talon and all other parties that has the right equipment to ravish-- and Joel's pretty loose as to what constitutes 'the right equipment'. Han critiques them like art, not like jerkoff material-- which they are, but Joel rests easy knowing that his friend (his friend!) will take even the kinkiest drawing in stride, with no judgment, and it's a huge relief. He hadn’t realized how much some of the pictures weighed on his mind, the ones he can’t show the discord.

Han likes them. Han even asked for a copy of one of his Joel's guilty favorites-- the one with Jesse McCree floating naked in swirling black fog, face half pain and half ecstacy, dismebodied clawed gauntlets gripping his cheek and his hip.

Han's also asked for copies of the Hanzo and Jesse stuff, even dropped a hint that they get some use when his roommate's out.

Bros being pals, Joel has to remind himself, flipping through the sketchpad and seeing the new picture and feeling a sudden sense of dread. Funny, isn’t it, but somehow this is the one he’s scared to show the other guy. He’d forgotten how. Telling. It was.

Even though Hanzo is completely dressed—in a bulky coat, no less.

But in this picture, the archer's trademark scowl has softened. He's changed his hairstyle, gotten piercings, moved past the memories he's been stuck in. He's looking at something offscreen, but whatever it is, it makes him look thoughtful, and not unhappy.

Thing is, that's Han's undercut. That's Han's bridge piercing, feebly disguised by adding a few ear piercings that the econ student doesn't share.

It screams out _I have a crush on you, not just your character,_ and Joel is a dumbass and what was he thinking.

"...it looks... good," Han says, so quietly that Joel can't tell if he's being kind or if he means it. "He looks good. It's definitely in the future after he's gotten his head out of his ass, but-- I like it."

 _I like you,_ Joel’s brain chimes in helpfully.

"I like your art," Han says, looking up from the sketch.

Joel swallows.

"Uh."

"...you want to go to dinner?" Han says, suddenly.

"Oh, yeah, sure. They'll have nuggets on the buffet if we head over to-"

"No. Dinner-dinner. Off campus."

"Dinner," Joel repeats, stunned.

"Or not, whatever," Han says, shutting the sketchbook and shoving it at him.

Joel catches his wrist, instead of the booklet.

"I'd really love dinner."

"Shit, you weren't supposed to say yes."

"Well, you shouldn't have offered then, because I want to go to dinner with you."

"Well... okay then. Good."

And Joel can't imagine what it's going to be like to take the next step with this prickly jerk who's only barely accepted that they're friends, but...

He can't imagine passing up the chance.


End file.
